


Jarod's Legacy

by Parker4131970



Category: Dark Angel, The Pretender (TV)
Genre: Clones, DNA Splicing, F/M, Gen, Origins, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25541614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker4131970/pseuds/Parker4131970
Summary: While in Seattle, WA, Jarod encounters Max and the Transgenics of Terminal City. What do they have in common? Who is abducting Max's people? How can Jarod help?
Relationships: Max Guevara | X5-452/Alec McDowell | X5-494
Comments: 15
Kudos: 14





	1. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I relied HEAVILY on artistic license in writing the V.A. Hospital in this fic.

Seattle, WA 

2021

Jarod set his duffle bag on the curb before settling down himself. 

_Ah, to be back on the east coast,_ _back in my own bed._

He ran his hands over his face, trying to wipe the tiredness away. He’d been on the run from the Centre for a lot of years. Lately, he’d slowed down to spend more time with the family he’d managed to reassemble. Since the Pulse, they’d enjoyed much more freedom. Even that catastrophe had an up side; at least for Jarod.

A damp breeze picked up, herding stray pieces of paper and trash against buildings and cars. The roar of motorcycle engines pulled the Pretender from his thoughts of home and family. Down the street came a young, latino woman in black leathers and yellow goggles. A smile filled with pure joy split her face. Seconds behind a lime green bike gave chance. A young blond guy leaned in close to the bike, reducing wind resistance to make up for his added bulk. 

Jarod hadn’t seen their brand of happiness in years. He caught himself shaking his head and chuckling like an old man. 

_ I am an old man, _ he thought after the racers disappeared. At 58, all those years dodging the Centre had begun to weigh on him.  _ It’s too late to dwell on it now, he reminded himself.  _ Sighing heavily, Jarod hefted his duffle onto his shoulder. 

“C’mon guys, we’re Jam Pony messengers on a late run.” 

Jarod turned the corner to see Sector Police holding the motorcyclists at gunpoint. Checkpoints pockmarked the U.S. since the Pulse but the Seattle area seemed especially full of them. 

“Doesn’t matter, we have to search everyone. Orders.” A stocky cop in riot gear stepped forward, toe-to-toe with the latino woman. 

“Spread your feet, miss.” With a loud sigh she threw out her hands and stood with her feet at shoulder width, as did her blond, male companion. The Sector Police took his sweet time patting her down. When he inevitably groped her butt she turned on him. 

“Watch it, asshole. I ain’t one of your usual skank dates.” The cop huffed but didn’t retaliate. He moved up to her shoulders where he swept her long, dark hair aside to examine her neck.

“No barcode here,” he commented as he returned to his partner’s side.

“Freak free here, too.” The Sector Police moved aside to let the motorcyclists pass. 

“You wouldn’t know a Freak if one bit your ass,” the blond man quipped with a sneer.

“Get outta my face before I run you in, or worse.” The stocky Sector Policeman tapped his nightstick against his helmet. Unfazed, the younger straddled his bike.

“C’mon, Alec, let’s let these clowns get back to whatever.” The latino female slid her goggles in place and revved her engine.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a left-handed salute to the Sector Police. The young motorcyclists took off again, engine noise bouncing off the highrise buildings. 

_ Freak, huh? I wonder what that’s about,  _ Jarod thought. He put on a guileless expression and wandered toward the Sector Police checkpoint. 

“Good evening, gentlemen.” He gave them an affable grin.

“State your business,” the stocky Sector Police demanded. 

“I’m here in Seattle for a job interview.” Jarod produced his I.D. and an authentic-looking letter from a Seattle-based company. 

“I couldn’t help but overhear you talking to those kids. You checked them for barcodes?” Jarod watched the cops exchange a knowing look.

“Past few years we’ve had problems with mutants; freaks that escaped from some military facility in Wyoming. Strange looking creatures. Lizard-looking things.” 

“You forgot the dogman who killed that blind woman.” They both shook their heads. 

Jarod’s mind began to turn, crunching numbers, filtering through memories. 

“I’ve heard they can fly like Superman and see in the dark.” That began a gossip session of things they’d heard the Freaks could do. 

“Where are these people so I know where to avoid?” Jarod probed, tempering his curiosity.

“A section of the city called ‘Terminal City’. It’s got so much radiation no one’s allowed in there. Maybe it’ll kill them off.” The Sector Police chuckled.

“It couldn’t make ‘em any uglier,” one added.

“Well, fellas, it’s been a long day. I should get off the streets before the Freaks come out.” The Sector Police suggested a couple of decent hotels before letting Jarod go on. 

Jarod found his way to the Space Needle Arms, the nearest of the hotels the Sector Police had recommended. A tattered mural of the Seattle landscape graced the lobby of the once grand hotel. 

“Fifty for the night, a hundred for a full amenities package.” The desk clerk began listing the benefits of the more expensive package.

“No, thank you. I just need to rest.” Jarod declined politely. The sallow-faced desk clerk began his sales pitch again until he heard a static interruption on the small television in the corner of the lobby. The desk clerk grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

_ “Do not attempt to adjust your set …  _

_ Over the last few months people have been disappearing from off the streets, mostly those mainstream society has labeled ‘Freaks’. These so-called ‘Freaks’ have been forced to work for Venenum International in their toxic waste disposal operation. Slave labor to ensure profits. _

_ “Last night, one of these laborers was found on Alki Beach. Only this time it wasn’t a Transgenic, it was Abby Smith, a fifteen year old born with Vitiligo, a rare skin condition. Her mother says that Abby felt self-conscious and only ventured out after dark.  _

_ “Seattle P.D. has all but refused to investigate Venenum International.  _

_ “If you won’t stand up for the Transgenics, stand up for Abby. _

_ “This has been a streaming freedom video.”  _

Jarod listened eagerly, absorbing every word. He’d heard of Eyes Only in the last few years, especially since the death of several veterans from defective medicine. The man had balls, Jarod had to admit. 

Quickly, Jarod jotted down a to-do list; people and places to investigate. 

Starting with Eyes Only.

****

**** 


	2. Our Protagonists Meet

Chapter Two

Elliot Bay, Seattle, Washington.

“I told you to dump the Freak in the middle of the ocean, instead it washed up on Alki Beach. Now we have that Freak-lovin’ vigilante, Eyes Only, raisin’ a stink about it.” Addams leaned in, his hand on the back of Billy’s neck, pulling the taller man down. 

“There wasn’t enough fuel in the boat to go very far out.” Billy shook off the other man’s grip. 

“Next time I tell ya to do something’, do it.” Addams shoved the taller man before walking off at a good clip. 

****

Seattle’s V.A. Hospital stood much as it had for the last thirty years; since the First Gulf War in 1991. Jarod took a deep breath as he stood in the parking lot, looking up at the black, steel and glass building. Too many obituaries of Gulf War veterans had shown up on Jarod’s radar. All of them had last visited this hospital and one doctor in particular. 

Jarod pasted an amenable expression on his face and turned his keen mind on. He half listened as Dr. Liston gave him the ten cent tour of the hospital and it’s clinics. Jarod had already read and memorized the dossiers of all the key staff. Patients, mostly men but a few women with expressionless faces but haunted eyes walked the halls. Jarod recognized the aspect of people who had seen - experienced - too much. Their eyes betrayed their pretensions of normalcy. 

One young man caught his eye though. A wheelchair bound man of about thirty with vivid green eyes lit from within by purpose and desire. Jarod momentarily wondered at this oddity. 

“Dr. Liston, just who I’m looking for.” 

Jarod felt the administrator stiffen beside him as they paused in the middle of the corridor. 

“Now is not a good time. Your complaints have been addressed. There’s nothing more we can do.” When the doctor moved to avoid the young man he rolled backward to intercept him. 

“That isn’t good enough, Doctor. People have died needlessly in this hospital. The clinics as well. I’m here to find out why.” 

Jarod looked more closely at the seated man, at his clothes, his wheelchair - everything.

“This hospital and its clinics are well managed. No one is forcing you to seek treatment here. If you aren’t satisfied simply go elsewhere.” 

Jarod bit his tongue, as he’d done so often in his life. Very few of the veterans could afford healthcare elsewhere, even before the Pulse. They deserved better. 

“I’ll be sure to tell the men and women standing in line for help. The ones barely making ends meet already. I’m sure the line will shorten tomorrow when a few more die.” The younger man wheeled around quickly and headed down the corridor. Dr. Liston showed his glasses up and pinched the bridge of his nose. He stifled a heavy sigh. A moment later he’d composed himself.

“My apologies, Jarod. I’m not really as heartless as I seem.” He smiled tiredly. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jarod gave the other man a reassuring smile. 

*** 

Terminal City … 

Max pulled her nose out of a biochemistry book at the sound of heavy footsteps. She shoved the thick text book under her desk just as Joshua the dogman Nomalie threw open the office door.

“Little fella, come quick. Logan on the vid-link.”

Max both dreaded and looked forward to seeing her ex-boyfriend. With or without him, it hurt either way.

“Thanks, Joshua. Did he say what he’s calling about; the VA hospital or the girl?” Despite the height difference of nearly a foot, Max out-paced the lanky dogman easily.

“Joshua don’t know,” he shrugged. 

When Max and Joshua arrived at H.Q of their reclaimed section of Seattle called Terminal City the usual suspects hung around; Dix, Mole and, in a dark corner, Alec.

As her second-in-command, he excelled. As Max’s pseudo-boyfriend he sucked. The scowl on his face said it all whenever Logan called. Today, Alec managed to paste on a neutral expression. 

“Hey, Logan, what’s the dealio?” Max asked as she pushed a strand of her long hair over her shoulder. 

“Max, I just got back from the V.A. hospital, managed to copy a few of the deceased soldiers’ files before Nurse Ratchett caught me. Were you able to talk to Abby’s mother?”

“No, not yet. I went by her house twice but she had company both times.” Max’s eyes dimmed for a moment before Logan changed the subject 

“Have you heard of a Dr. Jarod Erixon from any of the vets you contacted?” He hated seeing the sadness in her eyes. Max felt responsible for anything Transgenic related, even Abby’s misidentification as a Nomalie.

“No, but I’ll ask around.” For the next fifteen or twenty minutes they talked shop, supply runs, buying tryptophan and their fight with the government.

“Take care of yourself, Max,” Logan’s voice softened as he prepared to end the call. 

A gagging sound from Alec followed by “What the hell, Max!” promised a spat between leader and SIC as soon as Max and Logan signed off. Mole rolled his eyes but remained silent. He heard Max and Alec bickering all the way to the office.

 _It’s a wonder they get anything done,_ he thought. 

***

Hacking had long ago lost its novelty for Jarod. The V.A. hospital’s record keeping system took mere minutes to crack. Clicking through patients’ files, replete with photos, he ran across the young man he and Dr. Liston had encountered the day before.

“Hmm, who have we here?” Jarod speculated aloud as he sped read the file. The information rang true; too good to be true. Anyone but Jarod, who had written and lived hundreds of backgrounds, wouldn’t have recognized a few, subtle mistakes. A quick deep dive background check proved Jarod’s suspicion. To ferret out the young man’s identity, Jarod ran his own, fine tuned search and found news articles about Logan Cale. He had been the victim of a terrorist’s bullet while attempting to help a hostage, leaving him a paraplegic. 

“Curiouser and curiouser,” the Pretender murmured, having just read Lewis Carroll’s whimsical children's books. He enjoyed the author’s unusual characters and original style. Jarod could sympathize with the fish-out-of-water way Alice felt. 

Jarod leaned back in the desk chair and let his gaze drift over the view beyond his Space Needle Arms hotel room. Something about the young man’s photo tickled his memory. Logan Cale’s eyes, where had Jarod seen those vivid green eyes? Jarod closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He let all the images that had come his way over the last few days float through his mind: sector cops, motorcycles, a skyline mural, breakfast. Sounds followed; engines, nurses’ voices, TV static.

“Eyes Only!” Jarod exclaimed aloud. He pushed back the U.S. Marine Pez dispenser by his keyboard. Sadly, the dispenser hadn’t contained candy in years due to the economic crash caused by the Pulse. 

The Pretender worked his way through the Seattle P.D.’s computer system, F.B.I. field office system, news databases, and a list of government sites he’d created backdoors to years ago. Jarod worked all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read and review with kindness as I try to do the same! =)  
> 


	3. The Mystery Deepens

Chapter Three 

Max adjusted the Jam Pony ballcap she wore before she knocked on Martha Smith’s front door. Joshua had managed to gather ingredients and make peanut butter no-bake cookies. He’d insisted Max take Abby’s mother a dozen. The dogman Nomalie was all heart. A box also helped Max credibility as a Jam Pony rider. Never timid, Max knocked on the door.

“C’mon, let’s do this bitch,” she whispered to herself. The worn down house’s door opened a few moments later.

“Yes?” an equally worn down African-American woman spoke. She wore a faded pair of scrubs and a name tag.

“Are you Martha Smith?” Max held up the box of cookies.

“Yes,” Ms. Smith looked Max over quickly.

“These are for you,” Max practically shoved the box in the woman’s face. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” Ms. Smith took the box but eyed Max warily.

“Max. I was hoping to talk to you about your daughter Abby’s death.” She watched the woman’s wary expression turn to anger, her jaw flexing as she stood up straighter.

“Who sent you? I already told that pretty boy agent, my daughter had a skin condition. Had it from the day I gave birth to her.” 

Alarm bells rang for Max.

“What did the agent look like? What was his name?” At Max’s questions Mrs. Smith’s demeanor calmed a bit.

“Agent White, 30 or so, tall, white, dark hair with a nasty disposition. Somethin’ ain’t right about that man.”

_ Just great. Familiars are looking into this _ , Max thought. 

“You got that right,” Max agreed. “Can we talk inside?” She looked up and down the street or White’s goons. 

“Yeah, but I don’t have long. As bad as I miss my baby, I can’t afford to miss work.” Ms. Smith sighed as she moved to let Max into the house. 

Pictures of Abby’s siblings hung along the walls of the small house’s living room. Only two pictures of Abby hung among them, both hyper-realistic drawings. When Ms. Smith saw Max looking over Abby’s pictures she spoke. “Abby didn’t like having her picture taken but she loved to draw. She drew these for me. The first picture she drew of herself didn’t show her Vitiligo ‘cause she said she was ugly. I told her how beautiful she was inside, how beautiful God had made her.” Ms. Smith exhaled heavily as she wiped her eyes.

“Where was Abby, when she was taken?” Max asked, watching the other woman.

“I was at work, so I don’t really know. Damn job,” she muttered the last sentence to herself. “Abby loved to go down to the beach to draw. They never found her sketchbook. 

“I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. Smith.” 

“The worst thing is, Abby was confused with those Transgenic Freaks. But she felt a kinship to them, said she knew how they must feel.”

Max didn’t know what to say to that. Apparently mother and daughter had differing opinions about Transgenics. Max let it slide, laying it off on the woman’s grief.

“What’s this got to do with you?” 

Max felt Ms. Smith’s eyes assess her once more.

“I’m one of them. I’m a Transgenic.” She swept her hair away from her barcode, freshly resurfaced after a laser removal treatment.

“I’m trying to find out who is kidnapping my people, for both humans and Transgenics. No one deserves to die like that.” Max mentally pleaded with the woman to believe her.

“But you don’t look …” Her eyes widened when Max bent a house key between her thumb and forefinger before flattening it again on the coffee table. Ms. Smith sank into a nearby chair.

“Some of my people look like me, they pass for human. Others aren’t so lucky,” Max explained.

“I don’t know where Abby was that night but she kept sketching this one place in her in her sketchbook. I found it in her room after she disappeared.” Max followed the woman to a back bedroom to the left of the living room.

Abby’s walls were covered in her artwork, from cutesy cartoons to hyper-realistic portraits of her siblings to Renaissance masters. Max spied a drawing of a tabloid picture of Joshua. Instead of the snarl the tabloid photographer had captured Abby had drawn the goofy smile Max knew best. 

“Joshua,” Max said softly as she touched the corner of the drawing. 

“You know him?” Ms. Smith asked, a sketchbook in one hand.

“Yeah, I do,” Max smiled. “He’s as nice as Abby drew him.” 

“Here’s Abby’s last sketchbook. She had just bought one the day before she disappeared.” Ms. Smith handed Max the spiral-bound pad. Paging through, Max found several sketches of people, pets and buildings near Alki Point. 

“Can I borrow this, Ms. Smith?” Max tapped one of the pages. 

“I don’t know ... “ Ms. Smith hesitated, lovingly touching the sketchpad.

“The landscapes may help me find where Abby was taken from, or even lead me to her abductor,” Max implored.

“Please, bring it back, it’s all I have left of her.” Ms. Smith sat down on the twin bed covered in a purple and green coverlet.

“You have my word,” Max promised as she took the book. Ms. Smith only nodded.

**** 

Jarod had two dossiers by the time he’d finished researching Logan Cale; on on the man himself and one on all things Freak and Transgenic. It didn’t take a genius to see the connection between Logan Cale, Eyes Only and the Transgenics. Other inquiries revealed connections to a Colonel Lydecker and Gillette, Wyoming. More recently, Jarod found articles about a serial killer who collected victims’ teeth and his subsequent arrest and escape. If that wasn’t straight out of a Centre nightmare he didn’t know what was.

Jarod contemplated calling Sydney but realized he would be late for his shift at the hospital if he called. His old friend and mentor needed his rest anyway. 

**** 

Seattle, WA V.A. Hospital …

A few vets nodded to Logan as he wheeled himself into the waiting room. The white-on-white room smelled of disinfectant and mild body odor. A small TV played in the corner.

“Hey, Derek.” At the sound of Logan’s voice a man of perhaps fifty whirled around from looking at the TV to stare wide-eyed at the younger man. Derek sprang from the edge of his seat to meet Logan halfway.

“Not here.” He grabbed the handles of Logan’s wheelchair and whisked him toward the front entrance. Derek’s information had always been too reliable for Logan to fuss about the change of venue.

Once outside and sitting in a greenspace behind the hospital Derek opened up.

“I looked into that Dr. Jarod Erixon. He’s a ghost, man. A ghost.” Derek ran his hand over his mostly bald head as he tapped out a steady tattoo with his foot.

“How so?” Logan watched his contact carefully. Derek’s nervous ticks appeared to most as a junkie in need of a fix but Logan knew it to be the side-effects of several experiments at CIA black sites. They’d left the man with a talent for all things technological but few basic life skills.

“He’s right up there with those x-5’s Gillette, Wyoming, Lydecker, Renfro, the Pulse, Manticore, and Area 51.” Derek sprang to his feet and began pacing.

“This ‘doctor’ doesn’t exist anywhere, but he’s everywhere. A doctor here, a firefighter there, a Canadian Mountie, always digging, picking out the rotten spots. A do-gooder, a genius, a philanthropist.

“Jarod KNOWS things, IS things. He’s hunted, a beautiful woman, a mysterious South African group. Secrets. SO many secrets.” Derek breathed fast as he paced. He began to suck air in without exhaling. Logan rolled in front of him, stopping the pacing.

“Sit down, Derek. Breathe.” The man pulled a wrinkled paper bag from his dirty, army jacket and began to breathe in and out of it. After a few minutes he’d calmed down. Derek pulled a USB drive from one of his many pockets and handed it over.

“That’s everything I could find. It isn’t half of the truth, though.” 

“Thanks man.” Logan handed Derek three bags of chocolate Smarties smuggled down from Canada. Two contained chocolate and the third harbored money.

“Don’t ask for any info for a while. I’m burnt out after this one. Too big, too much. Pain.” Derek tapped his temple and crossed his eyes att he same time.

“Okay. Take care of yourself.” The two men shook hands before Derek scurried away. Logan slid the USB into a secret cavity on his wheelchair arm. 

**** 

V.A. Hospital. Seattle, WA. Second floor … 

Jarod sighed sharply as he stood looking out the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the rear greenspace. 

_ It seems Eyes Only is at it again, _ he thought to himself. Only rarely had anyone found out so much about his background. This time the person searching for him wasn’t an enemy; a switch from years past.

“There you are, Jard. Are you ready for the staff meeting?” Dr. Liston gave the Pretender a friendly smile.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Jarod shrugged.

**** 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I continue?? I'm beginning to fizzle on this story.


	4. Flashbacks

Four weeks Ago … 

The constant lapping of the water and the scratch of a graphite pencil against thick sketch paper soothed Abby’s nerves. Yellow light from an overhead security light gave her just enough illumination to sketch the boulders to one side of the beach and the waves front and center. Lost in drawing, the teen didnt’ hear the men’s voices at first. 

“Damn, this Freak is heavy. Shoulda brought a wheelbarrow or somethin’.” 

Abby heard ‘Freak’ and stopped mid-stroke. She’d heard the word aimed at her often enough, even before the tabloids began writing about them.

“Shut up and dump it in the boat,” another man’s voice ordered.

Abby shoved her sketch pad into her backpack and quietly slipped up the beach and closer to the small dock nearby.

“I’m gonna have to go to the clinic, this Freak bit me.” A heavy thud followed by a groan ended the first man’s voice.

 _Good. I hope it becomes infected and rots off,_ Abby thought. In the spotty lighting along the dock the teen saw the men stepping into a boat with another -humanoid- form with mottled skin and catfish whiskers. When the man at the engine looked up Abby focused on his face, preparing to draw it later. 

“C’mon, Doc, let’s go,” the other man urged, slapping his companion on the shoulder. Abby noted his face, too.

 _What am I going to do, no one cares if Freaks get kidnapped,_ she reasoned. 

“Just a few more Freaks for the toxic waste ship and we can quit for a while,” the one called ‘Doc” commented before he started the boat’s outboard motor. 

Toxic waste they WILL care about, Abby grinned.

***

Terminal City, H.Q. … 

“Hey, Dix,” Max smiled at the Nomalie who tried but failed to hang on her every word. 

“Yes, Max?” He took off his headphones to give her his undivided attention. 

“Do you think you could match any of these to the local beaches or docks?” She laid Abby’s sketchbook on his table.

“Sure thing, Max,” he grinned nervously. 

“Thanks, Dix.” She smiled back.

When Max turned she found Alec walking in carrying a box of electronic parts.

“Hey, Max,” he greeted her causally. 

“Hey. Any word from your source on who’s been taking the Nomalies?” she cut to the chase. Alec set the box on top of the sketchbook. Max set the box on the floor. When she stood up she glared at Alec.

“What?” he huffed.

“Abby Smith’s mother lent me her last sketchbook hoping Abby drew her last location. I promised I’d return it.”

Alec held up his hands in an ‘I give up’ gesture and pulled a face. 

“She drew Joshua.” Max flipped to a stunning portrait of the dogman. The light in his eyes and the highlights to his chestnut mane only enhanced the innate intelligence in his eyes.

“Good likeness,” Alec commented. Max gave him an arched brow for his understatement.

“Anyway, Vinny didn’t have any info on the kidnappers, BUT he did on that Dr. Jarod Erixon. Seems Erixon has been asking questions about the clinic and Dr. Liston.”

“Good. Someone should.” Max thought back to Theo’s death and how he could have been saved if the V.A. had been run better. Theo had left a wife and little boy behind. Max sent them a little money along when she could.

“Max, I think I’ve found one of the locations,” Dix’s voice broke into her thougths.

****

FLASHBACK … 

Early 1980’s … 

Lydecker felt a shiver run down his spine as the SUV pulled up to the gates outside the imposing stone structure outside Blue Cove, Delaware. Armed guards searched the undercarriage, looked over the driver’s paperwork, all without any facial expression or unnecessary conversation. Lydecker noted the lack of any insignia on the guards’ BDU’s. 

A moment later they were waved into an underground parking garage, a guard escorting them to a specific parking spot. Another guard led Lydecker and his peers inside, all in silence.

“Hello, gentlemen. I’m Mr. Parker and my associate Dr. Raines.” The tall moustached man shook hands with Lydecker as introductions were made. A quiet man Mr. Parker had neglected to introduce stood behind the others. When he finally did speak it was with a cultured, Belgian accent. The man’s genial manner belied his sharp eyes seeming to watch everyone and everything. He introduced himself simply as Sydney.

Lydecker and his associates were led to a large conference room. Mr. Parker and Lydecker’s commanding officer made small talk while two tech guys set up a projection screen. After a few minutes the screen filled with Sydney and a younger man dressed in an institutional-style uniform, almost like pajamas; his dark hair cut short. Lydecker listened intently to the young man explain and demonstrate theories on DNA-splicing; how human DNA could be reworked to include specific sets of animal DNA. The presentation detailed mutations, infant mortality, strengths and weaknesses as well as the challenges of these hybrids being reared by humans.

Absorbed by the prospects of hybrid super soldiers, Lydecker barely heard Renfroe, Father and the others asking the Centre representatives questions.

“Actually, the term we use is ‘Transgenic’,” Sydney explained in his quiet yet distinct voice.

“How soon can we begin?” Sandeman asked, a question Lydecker wanted answered as well. How soon would he have viable soldiers on the battlefield?

“Eighteen to twenty-four months, including gestation,” Dr. Raines rasped. 

Lydecker suppressed a shudder at the man’s rough cigarette-scarred voice.

 _Better get used to it, we’ll be dealing with the Centre for years to come_ , Lydecker thought. 

****


	5. Tracing Leads

T.C. H.Q. … 

“Hey, Dix. Any progress on the sketches?” Max asked as she leaned against the Nomalie’s workbench. Bits and pieces of computers, cameras and who-knows-what littered every flat surface around him.

“I was just about to page you.” He pulled up images of Abby’s sketches side-by-side with photos of Alki beach. 

“From the lighting in the sketches, she preferred late evening. Also, from some of her other drawings I think she frequented a music and comic shop two blocks from her house on the way to the beach.” Dix also clicked on a picture of said shop. 

“Okay, we check out the shop. Maybe someone there remembers something,” Max said as she straightened up.

“I found this between two of the pages.” Dix’s pale fingers plucked a sketch from the back and spread it on his workbench.

“Jeez, that again?” Max complained as she looked at her old Wanted poster.

 _My nose does NOT look like that,_ she thought silently. 

Dix flipped the page over with a grin. 

“That’s better,” Max smiled to match the re-drawn version Abby had sketched.

“Too bad there aren’t more Normals like Abby.” Dix shook his head.

“Amen to that,” Max chimed.

**** 

Zollie’s Comic Collection … 

*Music* Movies* Memorabilia* flashed in neon lights in the window of a stripmall storefront halfway between Abby’s house and Alki beach. As the door opened the Star Trek sound bite for automatic doors was triggered. 

“Hey. Let me know if you need any help.” A red-haired young woman lowered a manga to speak. She scanned the older man quickly before shrugging. 

Fans came in all ages, she thought.

“Would you happen to carry Pez dispensers?” the man asked, curiosity sparkling in his dark eyes.

“Yeah, we have a few, mostly new ones.” The cashier put a receipt in her manga a moment before walking down the display case counter. A few other customers browsed the stacks of CD’s and fandom related merch. Some items hung from the ceiling while others rested behind locked glass display cases.

“A lot of people still collect Pez even though the candy is harder to get than a black market kidney.” Behind the long display counter hung a dozen or so varieties of candy containers. 

“Hmm, I don’t see it.” The customer’s deep voice rumbled even as his face creased in disappointment.

“I can ask my boss to look around if you’re hunting for a specific one,” the young woman offered. She tossed her ponytail over her flannel-clad shoulder and began to toy with a brass pendant of an ancient god’s head on a black cord.

“Yes, thank you. I’m looking for a pre-Pulse Hulk dispenser.” He leaned on the counter for a moment. 

“I’m sorry, mister. I’ll ask my boss.” she shrugged helplessly.

“Thank you.” He pulled out a business card and wrote his number on the back before handing it to the cashier.

“I’ll let you know,” She stuck the card in her shirt pocket.

With that the man turned and left.

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8-28-2020 Why didn't anyone tell me chapter 4 and 5 were repeated!


	6. Twins

Zollie’s 

Twenty minutes earlier … 

Alec’s bike rumbled loudly as he gunned it into a parking spot outside the comic shop. The driver he had cut off honked and shook a fist out the window. Alec casually slid off his helmet. He strolled into the shop with a cocky grin and sparkling green eyes pinpointing exits and potential threats. At the sound of the door he saw a cute redhead look up. He grinned wider at her open stare. It wasn’t the first time someone of the feminine persuasion had ogled him freely.

“Hello,” Alec greeted her, his voice smooth. 

“Hi,” the redhead squeaked.

Alec suppressed a laugh as he watched her face turn red. 

“You look like someone.” She squinted at him. 

Alec swallowed his laugh then and there. 

_ Damn it, Ben,  _ he thought, not for the first time. 

“Are you an actor? I could swear I saw you on this show.” She squinted harder.

“Nah. Who me?” Alec scoffed, holding down his rising anxiety. “I guess I just have one of those faces.” He forced a laugh. She frowned but didn’t argue.

“Have you seen this girl?” Alec pulled a copy of Abby’s self-portrait from his messenger bag.

“Yeah, that’s Abby. She used to come in every day.” From the cashier’s smile, she and Abby were friends.

“She’s dead.” Alec suppressed a flinch as the cashier’s brown eyes teared up. To her credit, the young woman kept it together; only brushing away a few tears.

“How?” Her voice only hitched a little on the question.

“She was found washed up on the beach.” Alec shrugged, figuring he’d done enough damage. The cashier released a long, shuddering breath. A thick silence ended when an old-fashioned phone rang.

“Zollie’s,” the cashier answered on the second ring. Cat DNA being what it is, Alec couldn’t help but listen in on the conversation.

“This is Jarod Erixon. Does Zollie’s carry Pez dispensers or the candy?” 

Alec tuned everything else out, focusing on the man’s voice.

“Thank you. I’ll be around in half an hour or so.” When the cashier hung up Alec had a comic book half read. 

“I’ll give you this, IF you don’t let on to anyone you’ve seen me.” Alec held up a #414 Frank Thomas rookie Tiffany version baseball card. The cashier nodded as she reached out to take the thin cardboard he held between two fingers. 

Alec jerked the card back. “Ah, ah, not so fast. Don’t tip off the guy who just called either.” 

“Deal,” the cashier agreed. Alec handed over the baseball card while flashing her a heart-melting smile. He wondered if she were going to swoon. Her brown eyes softened and she tilted her head as she toyed with her hair.

**** 

Later … 

After Jarod left the comic shop, Alec made his way out of the CD stacks and back to the counter. 

“Let me see that business card.” Alec nodded toward the shirt pocket she’d put it in.

“But I need it to show my boss,” the cashier protested, stepping back and crossing her arms.

“I’ll give it back, scouts’ honor.” He gave her his most innocent expression. Her resolve weakened as he looked at her steadily with those startling green eyes. A moment later she handed over the card.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Alec read both sides, memorizing the information and then handed it back. On a scrap of receipt, he wrote down his pager number and gave it to her.

“Let me know if you need anything else.” Eyes bright, she bounced on the balls of her feet. Alec gave her another smile before making his way back to his bike.

**** 

Jarod surveyed the eclectic shop, still wary of Centre Sweepers despite their limited resources post-Pulse. He felt the warning prickle on the back of the neck telling him someone was watching. The cashier fiddled nervously with her necklace, and her gaze kept flickering to the young man with dirty blond hairin the stacks facing away from the register. Jarod recognized him as one of hte motorcyclists he’d seen upon his arrival in Seattle.

Interesting.

One his way out of the shop, Jarod made note of the license plate on the bike parked outside the comic book store. Time to find out who wanted to know his whereabouts.

Later … 

“Alec McDowell, 20 years old. Hmm,” Jarod said aloud to himself. He sat back and wondered where else he’d seen the young man’s face besides on the motorcycle.

****

FLASHBACK …

“Sydney, why are there different kinds of twins?” young Jarod questioned as he looked into a microscope. He stood on a step stool in order to reach the lab table. An unusual twinkle in Sydney’s eyes had the boy listening to more than just his mentor’s words. He gave the young boy an in depth explanation about monozygotic eggs that split into identical twins, dizygotic eggs, parasitic twins, vanishing twins and a host of other information. Jarod wondered if he had once had a twin brother or sister. 

Before he could begin to dwell on that though, Sydney began asking questions about the slide on the microscope. 

**** 


	7. Secret

The House … 

Logan growled at the computer monitor as the last flicker of light faded. 

“Damn brownouts,” he muttered darkly as he stood up, his servo motors protesting. Since he’d moved into Joshua’s father’s house it had been one inconvenience after another. What had been an old house pre-Pulse had turned ancient in the days since. The wiring just couldn’t handle the electrical current required to run his Eyes Only operation smoothly. The entire neighborhood shared the house’s fate. 

Flashlight in hand, Logan made his way down to the basement to start the generator -IF- he had enough gasoline. Somewhere among the remnants of old furniture, Joshua’s paintings, and an old, upright piano, Logan searched for the gas can. Shuffling around, finding more cobwebs than anything he swore softly to himself. “If Manticore’s virus doesn’t kill me the black mold in this house may.” 

“Looking for this?” 

Logan raised his flashlight quickly to see the owner of the baritone voice standing near the stairs, gas can in hand. The stranger leaned casually against the bannister, his dark eyes gazing steadily at Logan. 

“You really should invest in a solar panel for times like this,” the stranger advised.

“Seattle is overcast two hundred and twenty plus days a year,” Logan commented dryly as he assessed the middle-aged man. His dark hair had turned mostly stone gray but time hadn’t eroded his posture or the curiosity in his dark eyes.

“True,” the stranger shrugged.

“What do you know about a cyber journalist who calls himself ‘Eyes Only’?”

Logan’s hand edged toward the length of 2X4 he’d spotted atop the piano.

“Who’s asking?” 

“You may know me as ‘The Pretender’.”

“The hacker who uncovered the Pseuds Pharmacological Company scandal?” Logan raced to remember the details of the case, how the company knowingly substituted immunosuppressant with sugar. 

“The same.” A sadness flashed across the man’s face. Forty people had died and the ones responsible received a slap on the wrist in the end.

“Most people call me Jarod.” He offered Logan a handshake.

“You’re a myth in hacking circles.” Logan came just shy of fanboying. 

“It’s undeserved, I assure you.” Jarod shrugged it off. 

“You’ve made quite a name for yourself. I saw your Streaming Freedom video about Abby.” Jarod followed Logan to the generator and waited as the younger man filled the fuel tank. 

“She was an innocent casualty of Venenum International’s toxic waste dumping.” Logan sighed heavily. His contact at the Coroner’s office had shown him Abby’s autopsy. The poor girl’s mother hadn’t had burial insurance so Logan pulled a few strings to ensure a proper funeral. Abby’s irradiated remains had required special handling. 

“Venenum International,” Jarod repeated. He’d seen the name in his research recently.

“These ‘Freaks’, do they have a leader in Terminal City? I may be able to put a stop to the abductions.” Jarod’s mind bubbled like a coffee percolator.

“I can set up a video-link,” Logan offered. “But I’ll have to clear it first.” 

**** 

Seattle … 

In true Seattle fashion, rain fell even as shafts of sunlight broke through the clouds. Alec’s fingers tapped out a beat on his bike’s handlebars as he made his way though Sector X traffic. The closer he peddled toward Terminal City the thinner traffic became. Even Seattle P.D. hover drones avoided the skies over T.C. Electronics didn’t fare well exposed to radiation long-term. That suited the Transgenic community just fine.

Alec slipped into a warehouse built over tunnels from the late 1800’s. People of Seattle had dug them to cover up their illegal activities; smuggling alcohol, drugs, opium, slaves - white, black and Chinese, as well as gambling. Now they allowed T.C.’s illegal residents access to the sewers and Seattle beyond.

Once inside T.C., Alec strolled into Max’s office at HeadQuarters. Hands on her hips, she stood looking up at an X-5 team leader as she chewed him out for - something.

_ I’m sure I’ll hear about it later. Knowing Max, it’s probably my fault somehow, _ Alec thought. 

“Hey, Max. I got some info for you about Abby Smith AND that doctor at the V.A.” Alec grinned at the leader of the Transgenics. She hadn’t set out to be leader but she wore the mantle anyway, sometimes reluctantly.

“Get out of here,” Max ordered the X-5 before turning her attention to her second-in-command, Alec.

“Good. Dish. I have a million people waiting to see me.” If it wasn’t a dispute to settle it was someone wanting supplies T.C. didn’t have.

Alec recounted his findings as Max skimmed through a food inventory. Before they could suss out this new puzzle piece Joshua knocked on the door. 

“Hey, big fella.” Max’s whole face lit up. 

“Little fella, Logan on video-link,” the tall shaggy Nomalie informed her. Paint spatter covered his shirt and jeans, even his long hair. 

“Thanks, Josh.” Max set aside the inventory.

“What are you painting now, Josh?” Alec followed the dogman and Max toward Dix’s work space. Joshua’s passion for painting had helped to brighten T.C. and to fill its coffers. Smuggled, taboo art from a Nomalie, a ‘Freak’, had begun to draw wealthy customers on the black market. It was a win-win for everyone.

“My pad.” He grinned wide at the new expression he’d learned. Alec began to ask if Joshua were painting his apartment walls or a picture of his place. Knowing Josh, it could have been both. Alec figured he would find out later.

Max sat down in front of the web-cam, a smile pasted on her face. 

“Hey, Max,” 

Alec pulled up a chair behind Max.  _ He is so whipped it’s pathetic, _ the X-5 thought to himself. I didn’t take a trained soldier to see the way Logan mooned over her. 

“Whatcha got for me, Logan?” 

The man hid his disappointment quickly, but not fast enough to fool Alec.

“I have someone who’d like to arrange a meeting. He says he can help take down Venenum.” 

Everyone present gave Logan their undivided attention at those words. Slowly but surely over the last few months the Nomalies and X-series had begun to acclimate to one another. What the relationship lacked in affection it made up for in indifference. As long as they kept the peace Max let it ride. Joshua worked as an intermediary between the two factions.

“Who is it, Logan?” Max’s brows furrowed in concern.

“Jarod. Dr. Jarod Erixon from the V.A. hospital.” From off-camera they heard, “Just call me Jaord.” 

Logan scooted over to allow an older man access to the web-cam. His dark eyes swept over the Transgenics gathered around Max.

“Jarod?” Joshua elbowed Max aside to lean WAY too close to the camera; first one eye and then the other peering into the lens.

Behind the dogman Max and Alec exchanged confused looks. As far as Max knew Joshua hadn’t known anyone outside of Manticore until after their escape.” 

“Joshua, how are you, old friend?” 

The dogman stifled a howl of excitement.

“Not in the Basement now. Not in Manticore now. Joshua free!” He grinned as he rocked fromside-to-side, still leaning close to the web-cam.

“I’m so glad to hear that, Joshua.” Jarod chuckled.

“Is Jarod free now, too?” Josh stopped rocking, instead peering warily into the camera.

“Yes, Joshua. I’m free and I found my family.” Jarod had pulled a photo from his wallet and held it up for Josh to see.

The dogman couldn’t help himself, he howled long and loud. Jarod only chuckled while the Transgenics covered their very sensitive ears. 

“Joshua has family now too. This little fella, this Max.” He slung his arm around her neck and pulled her close for Jarod to see. 

“This Alec, for Smart Alec.” Josh pulled his other friend close, a chuffing laugh coming from his chest. 

“That’s wonderful, Joshua.” The Pretender inhaled sharply and released it quickly. 

“I hate to interrupt the reunion but the generator is running on fumes and the brownout is officially a blackout.” Logan leaned into the frame.

“Okay, I’ll sneak out tonight and meet you.” Max gave a half-hearted smile and shut down the vid-link.

“How come you never told us about Jarod, buddy?” Alec asked before Max could.

“It was a secret. Joshua not supposed to be out of Basement.” 

**** 


	8. Flashback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's such a short chapter but it felt done.

Flashback … 

One lab looked pretty much like another. This one was guarded by soldiers instead of Centre Sweepers. Jarod had gone to sleep in his cell at the Centre but woke up the next day in a foreign atmosphere. Everything felt different, the barometric pressure, the smell. He caught a whiff of flowers instead of the waters outside the Centre.

_ I’m above ground, perhaps I’ll get to see the sky, _ Jarod thought, though he kept a neutral expression in-place.

“Good morning, Jarod,” Sydney’s cultured baritone greeted him through the bars of the cell. 

“Hello, Sydney.” A stone-faced guard opened the door for the graying European. A metallic scrape indicated the door had been locked behind him.

“Where are we, Sydney?” Jarod watched his mentor closely. Questions piled up at the tip of his tongue.

“We are guests at a military facility for a few days. They have been working on the gene-splicing project you developed a few years ago. We’ve been asked to assist them in the refining process. After you’ve eaten there are several people for you to meet.” The two reviewed the project as Jarod ate. His mind lept from point-to-point even as Sydney talked. If this was a military base it meant they’d successfully produced the enhanced soldiers and had implemented a training regimen. The refining process must mean the first series had turned out anomalous. Jarod’s sims had predicted that. Now the client needed his expertise to prevent further failure. 

After the meal, Sydney led Jarod through an underground warren of rooms to a large lab. Soldiers and cameras kept watch at every turn. In the lab sat a man about Sydney’s age, taking notes between slides at a microscope. 

“Mr. Sandeman,” Sydney spoke quietly.

“Oh, hello,” The man turned to greet them with a distracted smile on his face.

“Jarod, this is Mr. Sandeman, the founder of Project Manticore.” The two shook hands briefly before diving into a technical discussion on junk DNA. Lab techs went about their work as Sandeman took them on a tour of the research facilities. 

“Jarod, I’d like you to meet the first fruits of Project Manticore.” Sandeman’s chest puffed out as he opened a door adjacent to his office. Inside sat two children on a large rug, both with long, auburn hair. 

“Joshua, Issac, I’d like you to meet Sydney and Jarod.” Both boys stood up and walked over to the strangers and began sniffing them. Their pale hazel eyes peered up at the strangers as they tilted their heads.

“Please boys, remember your manners,” Sandeman chided them. Jarod studied the boys, their broad noses, thick nails and the way they communicated by both human and animal means. 

“Extraordinary,” Sydney commented as he and Jarod followed Sandeman to a table covered in pages of finger paint pictures, books and file folders.

“I couldn’t have done it without your help.” Sandeman gestured between Sydney and Jarod.

“My boys are intelligent, strong and have superior senses to any of their contributing species.” He went on to rattle off specifications, superior sense of smell, eye sight, taste, eidetic memory and so on. 

Gingerly, Jarod knelt down to look at the boys. They scooted closer together, wary of the inquisitive stranger. 

“Hello, I’m Jarod.” He looked from one boy to the other. 

“Joshua,” one of them spoke in a gruff voice. He patted the other on the chest and announced, “Issac.” Jarod shook hands with the boys.

“Come along, Jarod.” Sydney broke the spell. Jarod had so many questions. Were they colorblind? What kind of canine had Manticore mixed into their DNA? He would have to settle for what information he could glean from his observations and what he already knew.

When Jarod waved good-bye the one who had introduced himself waved back.

****

“Where are you going?” Isaac asked, his voice a bare whisper near his brother’s ear. Their cell, though more comfortable than the rest, still felt chilly at night. The transhuman brothers usually slept in the same bunk for both warmth and comfort.

“See Jarod,” Joshua answered as he slipped out of the bunk, ready to hoist himself into the duct work.

“Careful, brother,” Isaac warned. Joshua grinned before disappearing.

Following his nose, Joshua found his way to Jarod’s cell, past the guards and cameras posted seemingly everywhere. Jarod lay on his back with his arms crossed over his chest as the transhuman boy looked down at him through the small vent. He had seemed much larger earlier that afternoon; so tall and vital. Now he seemed to have drawn in on himself. Josh knew the feeling.

Joshua dropped a button he’d pulled from off his shirt on the young man’s face. As he woke and looked around Joshua spoke. “Up. Joshua up.” 

Jarod’s face mutated from confusion to delight before settling on concern.

“You shouldn’t be here. What about the guards?” Jarod helped the boy down from the duct work. 

“Guards not miss Joshua.” He waved Jarod’s concern away.

“What are you doing here?” Jarod whispered as he sat down on the cot beside the boy of about ten.

“Talk to Jarod. Joshua curious.” He studied the stranger, from his short hair combed straight down to the bland, gray clothes he wore. 

“Jarod human?” Joshua asked as he lifted his nose to catch the man’s scent.

“Yes. I’ve never seen anything like you and your brother. Are there others like you here?” Jarod’s questions might finally be answered, he hoped. He hadn’t had a new friend since he, Angelo and Miss Parker had met Faith years ago. Despite the age difference, he sensed a kindred spirit in Joshua.

“Others in Basement. Nomalies. Joshua and Isaac special. Father keep Upstairs.” 

As Jarod listened to the boy’s unique way of speaking he could imagine the boys’ life; the medical exams, I.Q. tests, skills assessments and being handled by indifferent techs instead of caring family. Father - Sandeman - was to Joshua and Isaac what Sydney was to Jarod. 

They only talked for a short time before Joshua once again crawled into the duct work, headed for his cell. Before he disappeared the boy leaned down and grabbed Jarod’s hand.

“Jarod Joshua’s friend.” The boy grinned, his eyes lit with fidelity. 

“Always. One day we’ll both be free.” Jarod pushed down the lump in his throat at the thought of the life Joshua and Isaac would endure.

Joshua waved before he faded into the darkness.

****


	9. Revelations

2021

“So, one mystery solved and one to go. How do we put those bastards from Venenum behind bars?” Max leaned back in her desk chair after Joshua’s story. Everyone gathered around Dix’s computer sat silently for a few beats. No one cared about disappearing Freaks except their brethren. Eyes Only’s hack imploring people to rally for Abby hadn’t gotten the kind of response they’d hoped. 

“We take a field trip to Venenum.” 

Max turned to look at Alec, seeing a familiar twinkle in his eyes. 

“A little B&E?” She let a grin start to form. 

“Definitely,” Alec agreed. They hadn’t pulled a heist in ages.

_ Bitch and gripe one minute, best friends the next, _ Mole marveled as he adjusted his cigar. Murmurs of a possible relationship between the two had beeing going around since the lizardman met them. The ‘09’er kept pining for the Ordinary, essentially keeping both men dangling; at arm’s length. What they saw in her Mole couldn’t figure out.

**** 

Jarod leafed through the dossier he’d assembled on Dr. Liston. At first glance the good doctor’s finances appeared above board. He drove a five year old SUV, owned a modest three bedroom brick house and his wife taught middle school math. Upon closer inspection, the Pretender found a series of shell companies loosely associated with Venenum.

Next, Jarod flipped through a 1990 high school yearbook. Two fresh faced boys sat on the bleachers wearing basketball jerseys, soaked in sweat as they smiled for the camera.  _ “Daniel Liston, #12, and his brother Brock Addams, #16, celebrate the team’s third straight championship win.” _

Birth certificates listed the men as having different fathers, hence different last names. Handy when you want to dissociate from problematic siblings.

_ What does Addams have on you, Dr. Liston, _ Jarod wondered as he absently peered at a spread sheet, the Venenum International logo in the top left hand corner of the screen.

Toying with the head of a Dracula Pez dispenser, the Pretender turned to his DSA player for inspiration. 

****

FLASHBACK

Four Weeks ago

Zollie’s Comic Collection.

“Hey, Nissa.” Abby smiled through her hair. Half of her braids hid the half of her face most affected by Vitiligo. 

“Yo, Abby. I found that  _ Serentity _ manga you wanted to borrow.” The redhead dug a thick, illustrated book from a leather and purple canvas backpack hung on the back of her seat.

“Thanks, you’re the best.” The girls high-fived before settling down to talk. 

“Any new masterpieces this week?” 

Abby hefted her own backpack up onto the glass counter top. She pushed back her baggy hooded sweatshirt, the sleeves well past her fingertips; all the better to hide in. Abby did a lot of hiding. 

“Mom’s been working a lot so I haven’t had much time to do anything.”

Nissa nodded. Since Abby was homeschooled she was the natural choice to help out with the younger kids and housework while her mother brought home the bacon.

Nissa looked through the fan art Abby drew of pre-Pulse tv shows, movies and celebrities. The store sold some of them on consignment for the teen. It wasn’t much money but every penny counted.

“Who’s this ugly mug?” Nissa asked, turning the line drawing of a middle-aged man for Abby to identify.

“Just some guy I saw at the beach last night.” The little girl shrugged, avoiding Nissa’s gaze by flipping through the manga.

“Looks mean. What was he doing at the beach as late as you usually go?” Abby had never lied to Nissa, but she had downplayed certain things.  _ I don’t want to make a big deal,  _ she’d said when some street toughs had roughed her up. 

“Him and some other guy were on a boat.” Another shrug.

“Mmhmm, doing what?” Nissa persisted, crossing her arms over her yellow and brown plaid flannel shirt. 

“Um, probably kidnapping one of those Freaks.” Abby melted farther into her hoodie. 

“Abby!” Nissa reached across the counter and lifted the girl’s chin to make her look up. 

“Did anyone see you? Have you told anyone else?” Abby squirmed at so many questions. 

“No one cares about Freaks. They said something about toxic waste but without proof who’s gonna believe me?” She pushed back her braids to show her mottled, two-tone skin. With every passing day the splotches seemed to grow. The contrast between her terra-cotta features and the fawn colored patches drove a wedge between Abby and her siblings. She wished she had a hundred dollar bill for every time someone had asked if she was their half sister or adopted. 

Nissa saw the logic in the girl’s argument. 

“Did you overhear any names, see any license plates or anything?” Nissa began biting her nails, a habit she’d -mostly- broken.

“One man called this guy ‘Doc’ and said the Freak had bitten him.” Abby adjusted her braids to once again cover her face. 

“We need to turn this over to the cops; the sooner the better.” Nissa picked up the phone only to have Abby jerk the cordless handset away.

“I will, just give me a little time.” 

Nissa threw up her hands. Arguing would only make the girl shut down. 

“Okay, okay.” They sat in silence for a few minutes. 

“Want some blueberry muffins?” Nissa offered. 

“Yeah, thanks.” Abby gave her a rare smile.

**** 


	10. A Little B&E

Venenum International … 

Four Weeks Later … 

For a shipping and waste disposal company Venenum employed surprisingly cheap security. Most of their surveillance cameras were dummies and the guards too young or too old. 

“Like taking candy from babies,” Alec murmured as he jumped onto the tin roof of the dock-side office. Max followed a moment later, landing silently on her little cat-DNA’d feet. 

“C’ mon, put on your stocking cap. The lights are shining on your lighter hair like a spotlight.” She tugged the navy blue article from his BDU’s cargo pocket and slapped it into his hand. He pulled a face behind her back as he tugged the cap over his head.

Alec and Max let themselves in through a window they’d rappelled down to. They kept their small flashlights pocketed, using the glow from a security light outside and their enhanced vision. A dusty desktop sat on the metal desk behind which sat a safe and filing cabinets. Alec idly flipped through a classic car calendar on the wall as Max rifled through the files in the bottom desk drawer.

“Damn, the bad guys never leave incriminating files out in the open,” Max quipped.

“How inconvenient; how thoughtless,” Alec played along. He saw her smile out of the corner of his eye. 

_Man, she should do that more often. She’s so pretty,_ Alec thought to himself as he began working to open the safe. Max had moved on to the computer. She plugged in a USB programmed to copy the whole hard drive in seconds, regardless of the level of encryption. 

“How’s the safe crackin’ goin’?” Max asked, peering over Alec’s shoulder.

“It’d go a lot faster if you weren’t distracting me,” he huffed, mostly out of habit. Before she could retort Alec pulled the door open. He removed a stack of files, kept half and then handed Max the rest. They blurred through the files in seconds, eidetic memories coming in handy.

“What do you mean you saw Mothman jump the fence?” A man’s angry voice and two sets of footfalls announced the arrival of company. Alec and Max blurred, putting everything back as they’d found it, grabbing the USB and collecting their rappelling gear.

“I swear, Mr. Addams, it was Mothman. He was seven feet tall, had red glowing eyes, an’ he just FLEW over the fence.” The security guard’s voice shook as he spoke.

“This is the second time this week you’ve called me at home. So help me, if this is a false alarm you’re out on the street; nephew or not. Understand?” Through the window Max and Alec watched the one called Addams put a finger in the young man’s chest to punctuate his threat.

Two blocks back toward T.C. the Transgenics stopped to drop into the sewers. Alec led the way, eager to get back to fresh air.

“What the hell is ‘Mothman’?” he asked out of the blue.

“Some kind of supernatural creature, like vampires and werewolves.” Max explained as she sidestepped a rat longer than her foot. “It was supposed to have terrorized a small town in West Virginia like sixty years ago.” 

“No wonder the Nomalies scare the Ordinaries so much.” They talked about various cryptids and movie monsters all the way back to H.Q.

**** 

The Next Morning … 

T.C.

BANG … BANG … BANG … 

Max opened the door just as Joshua went to knock the fourth time. While she hadn’t been asleep, she didn’t want his loud knocking to wake the whole floor.

“Hey, big fella, what’s the 9-1-1?” She led him into the small apartment’s living area. 

“Dix wants Max. Computer files.” He sniffed a few times, something he did at almost every new place he went.

“Okay, let me get my boots on and we can walk to H.Q together.” Max flopped down on the unbroken end of the couch she’d recently scrounged.

“Where Alec?” Joshua made his way around the room until he came to the jacket Max had worn on the previous night’s B&E. 

“I dunno. Out tom-cattin’ I guess.” Max shrugged. She made sure to grab her keys and pager.

 _Why does everyone ask me where he’s at? He’s my S-I-C, not my shadow,_ she mentally complained. 

“Alec not tom-cat like before. Not since you and Logan splitsville.” 

“I guess the dating pool is kinda small in T.C.” Max slid into her other jacket, (not the one that smelled ever so faintly of gun oil and Alec.)

“What ya got for me, Dix?” Max pulled a folding chair closer to the Transhuman’s workbench.

“Hey! Wait for me,” Alec called from down the hall. Droplets of water in his hair caught the light like crystals. Max smelled his soap from across the room; and the coffee in his thermos. She caught herself taking a deep breath to draw the pleasant mix into her lungs.

“Get a grip girl,” She heard Original Cindy’s voice in her head, pulling her back to reality, away from Alec’s scent and the way his eyes sparkled as the morning sun caught them.

 _Remind me to go to Sick Bay, have my hormones checked for signs of Heat,_ she told herself. 

“The gang’s all here,” Alec patted Joshua’s shoulder as they took up spots behind Max and Dix. The dogman let out a chuffing laugh. 

“The info on the USB had minimal encryption but it still took me most of the night to go through it all. I don’t think they’d ever defragmented the hard drive. Not to mention all the viruses, spam and porn on there.” The Transhuman shuddered. 

“Hey, buddy, do me a favor and save me a copy of the porn? Alec bent down to ask quietly. A hard smack to the back of his head a split second later had him dancing away from Max.

“What the hell, Max!” he protested. “You’re not my mother!” 

“Thank god for that,” she threw back at him.

“What are they bickering about now?” Mole asked as he walked up to the group. 

“Porn,” Dix and Joshua answered simultaneously. 

“Huh,” the lizardman grunted. The pair had argued over less.

“What did you find on the hard drive, Dix?” Max ignored Alec’s boyish pout, and the way it made her pulse quicken. 

“I found records for payoffs of inspectors, boat captains, Coast Guard officials, everything.” 

“Any kind of schedule? We need to catch them red-handed.” Max needed to put these guys away for all Transhumans already gone. Manticore had already screwed them over enough for one lifetime.

“Yeah, there’s a pay-off scheduled for tomorrow to a Captain Rollins of the _Maggie MacKenzie._ ” He rattled off her location. 

“That means they’ll try to kidnap at least a couple of us tonight.” Alec chimed in for the first time. He had shed the boyish pout in favor of a seriously pissed soldier.

“Undercover operative?” Max stood up as her mind began to calculate and plan.

“Who? The Transhumans are closing ranks.” Alec bit his bottom lip as he thought.

“Joshua go.” The dogman thumped himself in the chest. Mole chuckled while Max and Alec traded horrified looks.

“I know you want to help, big fella, but we need someone they haven’t seen. Your picture was in the tabloids.” Max hated to bring up anything to do with Annie or Isaac’s deaths. 

“Mole, my man, how do you feel about undercover work?” Alec clamped a hand on the smaller Transhuman’s shoulder and smiled to make a used car salesman proud. 

“Who, me? You think any puny Ordinary could kidnap me? Ha!” He puffed up under everyone’s scrutiny.

“They couldn’t but we won’t tell them that. You’re a perfect example of cunning and skill. We’ll have a recon team watching. You’ll be in constant, two-way contact with base. It’ll be a walk in the park.” It didn’t take Manticore-trained observational skills to see the lizardman’s nervousness.

“What, are you X-5’s too pretty to die?” he shot back. 

“I don’t know about Max, but I am.” She gave him a not unexpected shot in the ribs.

“Ass,” she hissed.

**** 


	11. The Pay Off

Sandeman’s House …

Logan threw his headset across the room. Oh how he missed being able to pace around the room. He laid his glasses off before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Damn, another dead end.” Once again, another Manticore scientist had proven elusive.  _ I’m never going to find the cure to this bastard virus, _ he lamented to himself. He wondered when his run of bad luck would end. From a penthouse at Fogle Towers to squatting in a rundown shithole, it wasn’t how he’d imagined his life a few years before. Being hopelessly - literally hopelessly - in love with Max hadn’t figured into his five year plan either. 

A knock at the door interrupted Logan’s thoughts. He wondered who would knock since Transgenics weren’t known for their manners. His human friends were just as bad, though. 

“Coming!” he shouted as he replaced his glasses. A moment later he opened the door to Jarod.

“To what do I owe the honor, you actually knocked this time.” Logan didn’t bother to hide his sarcasm.

“I came bearing gifts as well.” He held up a computer disc for Logan to see.

“I found a link between Dr. Liston and Addams; several links actually.” Jarod followed Logan toward his computer room set up in the second bedroom. 

“Thanks, Jarod. I’ll pass it along to Max.” 

“Did the two of you have a disagreement?” 

Logan took a deep breath before answering.

“Max and I have a history; a strictly professional relationship these days.” 

“Because of the virus?” Jarod ventured. 

Logan wheeled around to face the older man standing framed in the doorway. 

“Your search for Manticore scientists hasn’t gone unnoticed.” Logan wondered at the man’s bemused, even mysterious expression. He suspected Jarod knew more than anyone could guess. 

“Every time I get close to a cure something snatches it away.” Alec and the explosive device White had put in his head came to mind. 

“Perhaps I can help. I have had some experience in virology.” Jarod stepped into the room.

“Have at it.” Logan handed him a disc containing all the research he and Max had accumulated over the last several months.

“All hope isn’t lost.” Jarod assured him.

Logan gave the older man a weak smile as he began scanning the disc Jarod had given him.

“Have a seat, Jarod. Tell me your story.” He doubted the other man would tell him the whole truth, but it was worth a shot.

“I grew up in Blue Cove, Delaware at a place called the Center. I was stolen from my parents. So was my brother, Kyle. The Centre has stolen many children over the years.” He thought about Angelo, Kyle, Miss Parker’s stolen childhood, even that bastard Lyle. Maybe if Catherine Parker had raised him things would have turned out differently. Jarod had long since quit pondering ‘what-ifs’, they only led in circles. 

Logan listened partially in disbelief and in certainty. If Manticore could engineer super soldiers like Max and her siblings, then the Center was a distinct possibility. His ears really perked up when Jarod described meeting Joshua and Isaac as children and how Jarod’s sims had contributed to Manticore’s plans.

“I thought Sandeman was solely responsible for the gene splicing and cloning.” Logan took off his glasses, toying with the ear pieces as he fit it all together; what he knew from his research, from Max and now Jarod’s narrative.

“Oh, he was  _ very _ close,” Jarod said sadly. The mournful way he talked reminded Logan of Max. They both felt a profound sense of responsibility and guilt.

“My life since escaping the Centre has been about redemption, helping right as many wrongs as I can. The world is so big and there’s still so much to learn; to experience.” A light glowed in Jarod’s eyes as he talked about finding his father, mother, sister and clone - Jay. Logan could understand why Joshua liked the man, they shared a sense of wonder and innocence.

“You’ve helped other families, have you ever thought of starting your own? The light in Jarod’s eyes dimmed. Logan wished he could take the question back.

“I know a thing or two about star-crossed love.” Both men sat silently for a beat or two, lost in their own thoughts. A loud chime broke the spell.

“Hey, Dix,” Logan greeted the Nomalie.

“Max asked me to call. She wants to know if you would drive your Aztec tonight?” He quickly filled both men in on Max’s plan. 

“Pardon me, may I have a word with Max?” Jarod interrupted as the call wound down. Logan frowned, wondering what his guest had in mind. 

****

The Pay Off … 

Light pollution hid the stars even away from the center of the city. A chilling mist wetted every surface as Addams’ Towncar pulled alongside an SUV. Windows slowly rolled down and two men leaned out to talk. Addams handed a paper bag to the SUV’s driver.

“This is the last load and it’s a big one. I’ll need three or four Freaks. They keep jumping ship. Sharks seem to have a taste for Freak meat.” Both men laughed. A second man in the SUV chuckled a bit.

“You don’t say. I hear human meat tastes just like chicken.” Max sauntered up to within a few yards of the vehicles. Her heavy biker boots thumped against the pavement only because she let them, each step like a prowling jaguar. Behind her, dressed in all their Freak glory, walked the entire complement of Manticore’s Transhumans living in Terminal City. Fangs, feathers, fins and scales gleamed in the dim light. Rumbles from dozens of throats vibrated off the brick walls as the transhumans closed in around the vehicles. Amongst all the noise came the sound of Logan’s exo-skeleton’s servo motors, the distinct clicking X-8’s used to communicate, even the sound of hooves clip-clopping.

“What the …” Addams’ eyes bugged out at the sights and sounds filling the alley. He pulled a handgun from beneath his jacket. Next to him the SUV’s driver started the engine, which he hadn’t turned off, grinding the starter to hamburger. One of the winged Freaks dropped onto the hood with a thud. She reached into the window and pulled the driver out. He promptly fainted.

“Nuh uh,” Max grunted as she jerked the handgun away from Addams. 

“No bitch Freak is gonna get the best of me,” he ground out. He waved for two men in the backseat to step out. 

“This the best you got, Addams?” Max wrinkled her nose in disgust, not even deigning to take a fighting stance. 

“Bring it, Freak,” the one from the driver’s side challenged. He towered over Max by almost a head and outweighed her at least one hundred pounds. She rolled her eyes as he pulled a wicked-looking hunting knife. Little did he know that what she could do with a butter knife would put his Rambo knife to shame.

“I hate being called a Freak.”

Both goons presented themselves before her and attacked at once. 

“Must be hard up for glory, working for a fat, little man like Addams,” Max taunted, lashing out with a booted foot. 

“Messin’ up freaks, I'd do it for free,” the passenger side goon answered, light glinting on a pair of brass knuckles. He swung, but Max easily ducked, dealing a kidney punch.

“Afraid you’ll see something of yourself in one of us?” This wasn’t the first time the transgenic leader had run into prejudice against her and her brethren. 

“Get her, boys. A thousand dollars for her barcode!” Addams shouted from behind the Towncar.

Max zoomed her vision in on the rotund business man waving a handgun. He lacked a Breeding Cult tattoo, that she could see. He also didn’t seem the type, too short, too bald and uncultured. So how did he know about barcodes, she wondered. A near-miss by the driver's side goon cut her thought process short.

_ Okay, time to shut these morons down, _ Max told herself. Several blurred moves later and one sported a broken jaw while his colleague lay in the fetal position, wondering if he’d be able to father children. 

While Max dealt with the driver’s side goon, Dr. Liston decided to sneak away. Transhumans flanked both vehicles so he decided to try the building’s side entrance.

“Tut, tut, Dr. Liston,” Jarod countered when the metal fire door opened.

“Jarod, what are you doing here?” Liston questioned, edging back toward the alley. 

“Better yet, what are  _ you _ doing here?”

Liston flinched at the menacing sound of Jarod’s voice and the obsidian-sharp glint in his eyes. 

“They’re just Freaks; not even human. So what if a few disappear?” Liston’s voice rose with each word, his face pale and sweaty. Jarod advanced on the man, righteous fire lighting his countenance.

“And what about Abby Smith? Was she just another Freak?” Liston winced at the depth and projection of his ‘colleague's’ baritone.

“She was a mistake - an accident.” 

Jarod didn’t let up. He stepped forward once more. 

“We can work something out, Jarod. There’s money to be made, for everyone.” 

Like Jarod hadn’t heard that before.

“You took an oath, ‘First, do no harm’.” Jarod’s gaze bore down on him like an Old Testament prophet. Liston glanced behind him to see a group of transhumans in military BDUs.

“Not only have you caused harm to these people, you’ve been stealing from the V.A. hospital, selling medicine and replacing it with cheaper, tainted versions. You, Dr. Liston, have blood on your hands.” 

“Addams, my brother, he made me. He used my identity to start shell companies. He said he’d turn me over to the police if I didn’t do what he said. I have a wife and kids to consider.” Liston began begging as Jarod backed him into the waiting group of transhumans. He screamed when one of the lizard-looking ones clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Save it for someone who cares.” Jarod leaned down in his face as he spoke. The lizardman pulled a pair of handcuffs out and put them on Dr. Liston. Together, the four transhumans ushered him to a waiting Seattle P.D. van.

“Nice work, Jarod.” Logan made his way over, skirting Max who stood triumphantly over Addams’ goons.

“It was my pleasure.” Jarod grinned mischievously.

They watched as Seattle P.D. took Addams, the official he’d come to pay off and the goons to the paddy wagon. Max and Alec joined the group. Most of the transhumans had disappeared as soon as Max finished with the goons.

“Is this a private party or is anyone invited?” Max quipped as she adjusted her leather jacket. She hadn’t even mussed her hair. 

“So, you’re Max,” Jarod greeted her. 

“And you’re Jarod, the guy I have to thank for my shark DNA,” she shot back, much to Jarod’s chagrin.

“Jarod!” Joshua broke the silence. The exuberant dogman pulled his friend into a crushing hug.

“Hello, Joshua, good to see you, too,” the Pretender chuckled.

“Joshua free! Jarod free! Family free!” Joshua hugged Max against one side and Jarod to the other. That brought a smile to everyone’s face.

“Everyone’s free, big fella,” Max agreed. “C’mon, let’s go to Logan’s for a victory toast,” she suggested.

“Hell yeah!” Alec cheered.

“You do have beer, right, Logan?” Max asked as an afterthought.

“Would it matter if I didn’t?” he said dryly. 

“Nope,” she grinned.

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, she FINALLY posted a chapter. My apologies.


	12. Chapter 12

Sandeman’s House … 

Candles and an old oil lamp supplemented the electric chandelier in the dining room. Laughter and good-natured banter filled the modest house. They were celebrating a victory. The information Jarod, Logan and Max had gathered promised to land Liston and Addams in prison in prison for decades. It also ensured that former Doctor Liston wouldn’t be practicing so much as first-aid.

Logan sat at the dining room table as Jarod and Joshua took turns stealing cookies they’d made for everyone. Alec and Max sipped beer as they played poker for M&M’s and pretzels. It was one insult after another. From the corner of his eye, Jarod saw Logan watching Max smile at something stupid Alec had said, probably something frunny from one of his many escapades. 

“Logan, do you have any ice cream?” Jarod asked, breaking the spell.

“Yes, let me get you some.” Jarod followed the younger man into the kitchen.

“Ah, here it is, pistachio.” Logan offered him the small carton.

“No, thank you - allergies.” He waved it away.

“I think I’m the only person in Seattle who likes the stuff.” 

“To each their own,” Jarod offered enigmatically.

“What do you actually want, Jarod?” Logan opened a cabinet and pulled a flask out of an oatmeal canister. He offered it to Jarod, who declined. 

“I made some headway on the virus research you gave me. I think I can synthesize a cure but it will take time.” Jarod expected more of a reaction than the forced smile he received.

“Thank you, Jarod.”

“Is it too late?” the Pretender asked.

“She said she and Alec were dating, so maybe.” Logan shrugged and took another pull from the flask before putting it back in the oatmeal canister.

Jarod knew first hand how that felt. He remembered how happy Miss Parker had been with Thomas Gates. Those memories  _ still  _ cut like a knife. She’d never managed to be that happy again. Lately, she’d become content, at peace raising her younger brother by Brigitte. 

The phone ringing interrupted the melancholy mood settling in around them.

“Hello?” Logan answered with a sigh. 

“Sure, Asha, I’d love some lasagna. I’ll bring the wine.” 

Interesting, Jarod mused as he watched Logan begin digging in the cabinet, pulling out a tall cereal box. Inside sat two bottles of red wine. 

All hope for happiness wasn’t lost.

**** 

Jarod pasted the newspaper into his red notebook. Abby’s smiling face stared back from beside large letters proclaiming: V.A. Hospital Doctor & Local Businessman Indicted for Murder.

Another wrong avenged.

The Pretender leaned back in the office chair, thinking over everything that had happened since arriving in Seattle.

“Yo, doc, got time for one more patient?” 

Jarod turned to see Max leaning in the doorway of his V.A. office.

“Max, come in.” He stood up, ever the gentleman. She sashayed in and plopped down in the chair opposite the Pretender’s.

“So, Logan said you were leaving today.” 

“Yes, I was just collecting my things.” 

Max began toying with the CatWoman Pez dispenser beside his red notebook. 

“Is there something I can help you with?” He raised one brow.

“Yeah, since I hold you at least partially responsible for bringing us into this world, the least you can do is keep an eye out for us.” She pinned him with a dark look.

“‘Us’?” he queried.

“Yeah, ‘us’, my siblings, my squad. There were twelve of us that escaped in ‘09. I haven’t been able to find all of them.” Max fished out a list from her jacket pocket and tossed it at him. Designations, basic physical descriptions and the names they called one another covered two pages in precise lettering. 

“You’ve been looking for your family for the last ten years?” Another unforeseen consequence of what the Centre did to his sims.

“Yeah. All of us are looking for people.” Max stood up, her business with Jarod concluded. 

“I gotta jet, T.C. doesn’t run itself.” From her jacket pocket she pulled a package or Pez candies in a variety of flavors. 

“Thanks for helping us get Liston and Addams.” She handed the candy to the dumbfounded Jarod.

“How did you … “ he began.

“I got ways,” she shrugged. 

Jarod looked down at the present. When he looked back up both Max and the CatWoman dispenser were gone. 

“Cats and their toys,” he chuckled to himself. 

**** 

The End


End file.
